Night Owl Cards

The postseason has transformed into a pile of crap, just as I suspected . It's the continuation of a horrid cycle that began in 2009, in which the two teams that I hate more than any other keep showing up and winning the World Series without any regard for the fact that I've despised them since I was 10. And I'm really sick of the "jolly good show" comments from the likes of MLB and the MLB Network about how terrific the games have been, as if they don't have anything to sell. A party in which nobody attends except your enemies is not a party, no matter how fantastic the caterer is. No, it's a great big colorful suckfest. I'm reduced to rooting for the Tigers, who have almost no chance because their bullpen is made out of kerosene and a few of Jim Leyland's discarded, still-lit cigarettes. It's depressing, and I probably won't watch but a few snippets of the rest of the playoffs. And that's depressing, too. And what do I do...

(The "Card of the Week" has briefly returned to the baseball-reference.com blog, and the latest edition is another attempt by me . I also have provided it here below on this blog in Cardboard Appreciation form, for the 3 people who read this but not baseball-reference. It's the 97th in a series): The "last hurrah" is a familiar ritual in modern life. The last day of high school. The bachelor party. The retirement party. It is familiar in card collecting circles, too. The last set of the Topps monopoly era (1980). The last licensed Upper Deck set (2009). Often, the "last hurrah" immediately follows something called "the golden era." For me, the "golden era" of All-Star cards was from 1975-81. And the "last hurrah" of All-Star cards was the 1981 Topps set. In 1975, Topps came up with a brilliant plan to take the card of each player who was an all-star starter the previous year and present his card as if it was a ba...